do-you have tomorrow's times yet? the grizzled old man behind the counter doesn't look up.
right. i forgot. the old man grudgingly bends to cut the plastic on a fresh stack of newspapers. as he does, jonathan glances at numerous porn magazines on display. naked women smile back at him --
uh - no. no that's it, thanks.
solange, you're up so late?
just working late, that's all.
actually, they lost by 4. both pause, turn to jonathan. jonathan smiles awkwardly.
it was supposed to be a good game though.
yes?
that certainly is - something.
maybe they're developing a fly with a nursing degree. a superfly.
uh, jonathan messer.
none. i'm from worth and berman. i've been over here a few wee-- a flush from the next stall cuts him off. the sound of zipping up, of a belt buckled, then of a stall door opening.
audit manager, yeah.
have laptop, will travel. what about you?
well, i didn't get your name for one.th-- the sound of a faucet running drowns him out.
sorry - i didn't catch that? hello?
sure. it's wyatt, right? wyatt bose nods as he steps into the room. there's something very likeably "on" about him.
pretty much. i'm supposed to be out of here by tomorrow so i'm just trying to finish up. what about you?
it's all right, if you enjoy working with numbers. do you like being a lawyer?
no - it's okay. really.
since my senior year of college. they subsidized my graduate degree.
well - i guess you could say that. i was raised by a single mother, and she died when i was nineteen, so.  yeah. it wasn't so bad though. i'm sure a lot of people have had it worse.
are you?
i don't know.  i used to have friends. but it's like i've spent so much time trying to prove myself, working these hours - you can only do it so long before you look up and realize you've lost
everyone. just - fell out of touch. with everyone.  and i try to meet people at work. i do. but it's always the same. to the accounting staff i'm a pain because for two weeks they have to hold their breath and hope i don't pick up on any of their screw ups. and to everyone else, i'm just a temporary fixture, so why bother? the truth is, this is the first meaningful conversation i've had in i don't know how long. it's like if i disappeared tomorrow, i'm not .sure anyone other than solange would even notice - she's my neighbor. i live on what must be the only block in brooklyn that still isn't hip.
yeah?
uh,.either one is -- i mean the n and the r both stop there so, you know, either way, i mean, this is the right train. yes. sos of thanks. "s" enters her car. jonathan wavers, wants to follow into her car but doesn't have the nerve. he enters a different car.
i guess that's it. then. nice meeting you.
listen - could you point me toward wyatt bose's office? the assistant controller looks up in mild annoyance.
wyatt bose. he's an attorney here. she sighs, put upon, then slides out a desk drawer in which a laminated page of names and extensions is taped. jonathan's eyes follow her lazy finger down the list --
clancey funds on thursday. clute nichols after that. wyatt's about to reply - when another lawyer passes him in the hall. wyatt taps the lawyer's shoulder.
oh? i would've been happy to.
actually, it's a hybrid weave: natural gut and kevlar. they're pretty obscure now. i should replace them, they're all frayed.
huh? oh - yeah, i tried once, but i was allergic to something in the solution.
what - you mean sex?
oh, i don't know, not a whole-
maybe - four.
okay fine, just four. what about you?
what? you just said everyone -
we have the same phone.
no, i wasn't -- of course you can-
i guess i could go home and change.
nothing, i just hope i can pull it off.
who?
what lie?
so what happened to him?
you're pulling my dick, aren't you. wyatt turns to him with a grave look.  then smirks.
oh - great, actually.
isn't this like fifty bucks a glass?
the wildest thing? oh i don't know, i've never been too adventuresome.
the lamest.  wyatt's focused on him, amused, eager to hear it.
actually, that was probably a few months ago. i was flipping through money magazine and saw this small ad in the back. it read something like "are. you feeling all alone? looking to meet women but have forgotten how?" and-there was this number.
nothing actually. the phone just kept ringing. and that's it. wyatt stares at jonathan a beat, then starts to crack up.
lame enough for you?
hello? wyatt taps his shoulder, directs his gaze to a sexy brunette at a distant table, receiver to her ear, eyeing jonathan.
all right.  goodbye. jonathan hangs up, turns to wyatt.
she wants to dance.
she's a hooker. wyatt shrugs, grinning.
hold on - you knew? what - are all the women here prostitutes?
you seem to possess quite a store of international trivia.
three weeks.
so you sleep with hookers?
so how do you - meet your needs? wyatt studies him a beat, another french love song drifting in the background as the emcee introduces a new girl.
what were you going to say?
and?
you make it sound like a mob hit. wyatt smiles, and turns his attention back to the floor show.
what you were talking about, before. peoples' needs.  wyatt turns to jonathan with a grin:
yeah. yeah i did. thanks.
forget it. it was funny. wyatt smiles warmly, pats jonathan's shoulder.
hey. could you let me out at the next corner over there, on 7th avenue?
right.i just need the access codes for the accounts and sub-accounts? the controller suddenly looks uneasy.
you've got account numbers, but no access codes. without those i can't get the banks to authorize statement verification. besides, how else can i steal the money?
nothing, i was just pulling your-- leg. i do need those codes though, when you get a chance.
how'd you know it was-
i'm just glad to be outside. i've got to tell you, this has been great, meeting up for lunch. i used to just- a cell phone rings. they both instinctively reach in their jackets, take out their identical phones. it's wyatt's that's ringing. jonathan rests his down on the ledge.
no - no you didn't.
sounds exciting.
jonathan mess- click. dead air. more puzzled, jonathan frowns a beat - then replaces the battery with one fresh off the charger.
hello? a soft, electronic rustle from the other end.  then:
excuse me?
i'm sorry, i think you have the wrong--
hello? the crackle of static on the other end. then:
actually i am, but i don't think i'm who the static on the other end worsens.
i said i am free, but i -
the hotel? i - i guess, but -
hi, it's jonathan, i've got your cell! i guess you must have mine. i imagine you're in the air now, but call when you get this. if you do. oh, and you got a call from someone who i'm. forget it, just call me. jonathan hangs up.
excuse me?
i've lived here all my life!
i - think so, yes. you're here for wyatt, right?
yes. yes we did -
look, i don't think i'm -- i mean; you and i., we don't know each other? she turns to him, the slightest smile on her thin lips.
what i mean to say is, i'm fairly certain there's been some kind of mistake.
no - i mean, yes, but -
oh no, it's not that at all, it's just -
well could you tell me the name of the guest who was staying there?
actually, the thing is.  it's okay. forget it.
hello?
hi! how's london?
yeah. listen, last night. um. i met this-
hello, um - i'm sorry to bother you -
through a friend.
wait - jonathan fumbles for what else to say before she hangs up.
are you free tonight? he shuts his eyes, ready for a hang up. a long silence.
where. right.  the plaza?
the shakespeare?
excuse me, um - i'm sorry to disturb you - she turns, regards him a moment, curiously - a copy of shakespeare's "a midsummer night's dream" in her hand.
i'm - supposed to meet someone here and-
i'm sorry, what floor? she rolls her eyes.
oh - so i should?
so are there a lot of - people - who do this? she turns to him with a look of growing impatience -- when the creak of a cart causes them to glance up: a room service waiter is crossing past the far end of the hall. jonathan turns back to find her staring at him uneasily.
well, a friend of mine -
he's - well, he was going out of town. i'm doing something wrong, aren't i?
can i ask you something? why do you do this?
well - good night.
hey, i never heard back from you. i guess you're busy.with stuff over there. i've been kinda busy too! i've been wondering - did you mean for me to take your phone?
j'ai ete tres occupe. with work. he's exhausted. and no longer so exhilarated by his nightly activities.
maybe later, okay?
before we. um, the thing is - i know you. she glances up, curious - her hand lingering by the front clasp of her bra.
not 'know' exactly, but we sort of met before. in the times square subway station. it was raining.
you had no umbrella. you were soaked.
then you asked me if the n train stops at canal. she squints back at him, vaguely recalling him. she smiles warmly and continues to unbutton her blouse.
wait.
this just seems strange, that's all.
maybe. i don't know, it's just -
it's just that-
wait - don't go. she glances back curiously.
what i mean is, by any chance.  are you hungry?
sorry, i'm a messy eater. €žs€ž me too. jonathan rubs at his chin with a napkin, misses. she takes the napkin, dabs it in water and cleans him up.
thanks.
by the way, my name's-
the 'rules' seem to specify no conversation either. as., they are a little rigid, aren't they? but i think we should obey the 'no names'. it'll be fun!
ah, but i know.yours begins with an 's'. €žsir is that right?
i saw part of the monogram on your briefcase. ..  s if i see-excellent work, holmes. maybe i'll tell you if.you guess.  her face is an inch from his, the moment mysterious and sexy.
hmrn. what do we know of her? she sports a camel coat, a briefcase and possesses no umbrella. i deduce. her name is 'sybil'. 's' laughs.
sarah? sara? samantha? sandra? susan? she makes a little sound of encouragement. hun.
aha! sue? suzie with a 'z'? you're saying my name is 'suzie'?
is it?
i've got to tell you, i'm much better with numbers.  how about sonia? sheena? wait - sophie! you're definitely a sophie.
either.
how about syd? as in syd charisse? she was cyd with a 'c'!
but maybe you spell it with an 's'? ,, s . if i do not.
steffi? sexy steffi soaking in the:rain?. she mock-frowns.
sally? sally with three 'l's? she shakes her head, amused. jonathan rubs his chin.
hmmm. hmmm. the mysterious 's' alighted from the train at canal street. she may well be from 'downtown'. hmm. ah! of course! how foolish i've been; sinead. 's' giggles, charmed by him.
stella? sky? sunbeam?
absolutely. to me you are 'sunbeam'.
can i ask what you do for a living? you first.
i sit behind glass and watch people pass like fish. she smiles - a more interesting answer than she expected.
nahh, i'm.  i'm kind of an accountant. us,, now i bet that's just what you wanted to do when you were a kid!
oh yeah. i'm living the dream. feel free to leave now. u s €ž still here.
so what about you?
a pro tennis player.
you're kidding? €žs€ž really! i loved the idea of sitting in that big, high chair. 'the ball was good,'mr mcenroe.'
i can see it. an 80's new wave love song comes on the radio. she beams, reaching across jonathan to turn it up.
trust me, it's not a pretty sight.
i'd like to see you again. not in a hotel. it s+ " hmm. i'd have to think about that.
how about tomorrow? . . s to it is tomorrow. she curls up next to him, rests her head on his arm, closes her eyes and drifts off. jonathan gazes over at her. the perfect line of her jaw. the petite divot above her lip. the tiny pierced comma in a presently unadorned earlobe. and then he notices, in the far corner: her purse. he stares at it; her name and personal details less than 20 feet away. he hesitates, then tries to silently slide his arm out from under her -- when she stirs and nuzzles closer. he looks over
hey! are you back in town?
oh. because i thought i saw you last night - at the hudson.
yeah. i mean, i was. only now - well, i met a girl. not just any girl. the girl.
she's a member of your naughty little sex club. i have broken all the rules and had an honest-to-god conversation.
i'd like to say it's a long story but it's not. when you are coming back, you gotta meet her.
i-have no idea, i don't know all that much about her. all i know is i can't wait to see her again.
what do you mean by that?
yeah, yeah, yeah but - sometimes you just have to go with what you feel, don't you?
hello?
hello? intermittent static on the other end. and then what sounds like a woman gasping; it's unclear if it's a sound of pleasure or pain.
hello? the gasping comes faster; jonathan debates hanging up - when the gasps halt,--replaced by the faintest whisp__of_ a female voice: "no.  no please" there's no mistaking the tone now it's fear - then. suddenly a shrill, terrified scream.  - and the line goes dead. jonathan stares breathlessly at the phone in his hand, like he's just witnessed something awful. he quickly checks the display: "number unavailable." jonathan looks panicked with the possibility that it was "s"- - when the phone rings again. he hesitates, then picks up.
sure you don't mean "clashing?" she laughs - then notices how tense he seems.
it could've been a prank. . now you're the one who looks scared.
you gotta respect him; he just keeps at it. a waiter arrives and sets down a laminated menu - entirely in chinese. "s" points to the characters like an expert. j! $ ft we'll have this.  and this.  oh, and let's try one of these. thank you. the waiter nods, walks off.
what did you order?
how do you know we'll like it?
this is so. not my life.
more than you know.
ever since that night on the subway - i haven't stopped thinking about you. she lowers.her eyes.
sorry, i didn't mean to freak you out. she slowly looks up again, touched.
no. it s., even so, i'm not sure i believe you. jonathan's look, 'why not?'
point taken. but i've thought about you a lot.
and sometimes during. she laughs. the waiter brings them their drinks.
so how come you got involved in the club? she frowns slightly, thinks. €žs . if wouldn't it be great if you could just meet someone and not have to do the 'work.  family. previous relationships' thing? isn't who we are right now so much more interesting than where we've come from?
sure.  but that didn't really answer my question. she reaches over and takes his hand, holds it tenderly. €ž s of i know it seems like i'm holding out on you, but i'm not. it's just - i turned thirty this year, and i made this vow to live only in the present. and it's good, you know? and yes, maybe it's because there are things in my past i don't care to think about - but that's the same for everyone, isn't it? he nods, still holding hands, loving every moment of this. is s . €ž i like you. i hope you like me. can't that be enough? jonathan smiles, completely disarmed by her. the waiter brings their food and goes.
i wasn't asking for an autobiography, you know. i was just curious.
you mean the intimacy without intricacy.
oh - no thanks.
hey, are you all right?
too late. -- i want all the complication you've got. she gazes at him, blinks back her emotions. it sc, your glasses. they're fogging up. she reaches out and gently removes his glasses.
maybe you should stay. she smiles as he kisses her even more passionately. again they feel the awning's drops, and jonathan moves to shelter them - - only "s" leans into him instead, leading him out from under the awning, the falling rain suddenly drenching their faces as they continue to kiss, the moment purely exhilarating. wiping the rain from her face, jonathan gazes at her, soaked and utterly beautiful, with something akin to awe - like he's just breathed for the very first time. rack focus on a hotel down the street, its neon sign reads: "hotel lotus."
perfect. they watch together. €žs_.  so were you any good?
yeah. but i didn't want it enough. the guys who make it really need it. i played recently, first time in years. i've got this friend - a new friend, he's great.
maybe you'll meet him one day. anyway, we played and he creamed me. but i knew i was better than him. he said i had no killer instinct. i's. it .i don't know, i think you're a pretty determined character.
on a level with this feller? he points to 'duck on bike' watching over them like a charm.
i know we said we wouldn't rush. but for the record, i'm doing everything ican to apply.the brakes here. €žs . of me too.
it's a wise and mature choice we've made.
but say we did, just say.  mmhmm?
say we were to suddenly tear off these robes.  would that be such a terrible thing? for two people in manhattan -
to consummate their deep human needs in a frenzy of. of.  fucking and sucking?
beautifully put. its. i. you were saying?
who - who would blame these two people?
and who would know? his face is inches from hers - when she rolls over and reaches for a glass of water on the night stand. she sips her water, as she turns back to jonathan. still, jonathan picks up on her subtle shift.
is everything okay? she starts to say something, then stops herself and nods instead. she sets down her glass, starts to get out of bed.
where are you going?
ice, huh?
that's all right, i'll go. he hops off the bed, grabs an ice bucket from the mini bar and a key card from the table, he surreptitiously adjusts his penis : and goes to the door. he's about to turn the handle when -
yes? she hesitates a cryptic beat - then shakes her head, and smiles at him with immense tenderness. jonathan beams back. its . p1 hurry, okay? he blows her a kiss, she blows one back. almost in slow motion. she looks stunning.
would you like some help, ma'am?
i can't get the card to work. he tries the card again. leaning in, he thinks he hears something behind the door. he peers down at the key panel: red. he knocks harder, waits for a response. none. dead silence.
hello?.  hello? he jostles the door handle: it won't budge. he's getting anxious now, his breath quickening. he tries the key card again: red. he pounds harder, then slams his shoulder into the door. nothing. desperate, he tries the key card again -- and the light turns green. - a millisecond's surprised hesitation - then he jerks the handle, throws open the door and jonathan tumbles into
help.
i saw blood on the bed and then someone hit me. when i came to, she was gone.
i don't know. it starts with an 's'. i think.
no! no, she's just a person. a friend.
of course she has a name! i just don't - we have to find her - something must have happened to her!
i told you, whoever did this must have cleaned it up while i was out.
my wallet and keys - they're gone! they were right here.  he looks over to the chair where his crumpled suit lies. his scarf is gone too.
what?!
she didn't do this, okay?! something happened to her! you don't understand, we were.  wait! he sees something on the floor between the bed and night stand. he runs to to pick it up: a chinese gum wrapper.
this -- this was hers.  jonathan clutches it desperately, the lone trace of her existence. the guards exchange a look like he's insane.
i told you how we met.
i don't -- it's not like that.
that's.  that's the way it works.
not at first -- look, i know how it sounds, but i'm telling you, whoever hit me must have - i don't know -- taken her. maybe even.  he stops himself, shuddering to think of the implications.
i'm not crazy, okay?! a woman vanished back there! there was blood all over the goddamn bed! he becomes very conscious that this sounds crazy - when a cell phone rings: it's russo's. she pauses, struck by the genuine desperation in jonathan's face. she finally picks up.
what am i supposed to do? an awkward silence, then:
i'd like to go now. is that all right? can i just - can i go?
your ad says 24-hour locksmith.  well how soon could you-.  fine. he opens a file: it's where he keeps his passport. he stuffs it in his back pocket, keeps searching, pulls a folder marked "credit cards." sorting through old statements, he finds the line: "to report a card lost or stolen"
this is jonathan messer. i won't be able to come in today. i'm - pretty ill.  'duck on bike' sits on his nightstand next to his glasses.
i was told you sell this gum here? the old woman studies him a wary beat, then gestures to a candy display. in one box is the same gum.
a woman - a white woman - buys this brand of gum. i need to find- the old woman interrupts him in raspy chinese.
i'm sorry, i don't -- do you know the woman i'm talking about? a white woman? please, it's very important that i --
can you ask if she knows the name of the white woman who buys this gum? the girl questions the old woman in rapid chinese. she takes. a dragon her smoke, then gives a lengthy answer. the girl nods, finally turns to an anxiously waiting jonathan.
hello?
no - she's not. not last night.  no. russo studies his strained expression a suspicious beat.
the hudson?
wyatt, it's me. i need to talk to you. call me, ok? please.
yes, i need to get in contact with one of your attorneys, wyatt bose - it's extremely important. he's working out of the london office right now. if i could speak to his assistant or someone who'd know how-to reach him immediately.
b-o-s-e. first name wyatt.
yes.  the. receptionist frowns.
messer. jonathan messer. i'm an auditor from worth and berman.
yes -- yes, i'm --- he works here. i've seen him working here. i net him here.
a few weeks ago. wyatt bose. wait.  here. he hands her wyatt's business card with the rutherford stern masthead on it. she studies it with a look of confusion.
i've seen him in the halls - for chrissake we smoked pot in the conference room! ms. pomerantz abruptly frowns, when jonathan spots a lawyer -
thank god. look, i'm trying to find wyatt.
wyatt bose. i saw you talking with him, cracking jokes in the coffee lounge. flash on same scene: wyatt looks up, eyes meet jonathan's. jonathan smiles in greeting.  but wyatt just nods coolly.
hold on, you're telling me you don't--
he said he was in london with mr. rutherford, paperinga -
wyatt - .by a man in his early 60's, his wife behind him; both strike us as wealthy, downtown patron-of-the-arts types.
sorry, i -- i need to speak to wyatt.
wyatt bose. he lives here.
not in this building - in this apartment.
but.  i was right-here-with him.  the man takes a step back, catching his wife's equally wary expression, his hand making for the chain lock.
from a gallery! in munich - the one that herr kleiner handles? the art dealer downstairs?
but wyatt smoke to him.
when i was working over here, you made a photocopy of my i.d'
you have to. she looks at him', sees his desperation.
hello?
oh - right, i was just - checking in, to see if you had any leads.
oh - okay, thanks-
i told you before -
i don't -- why are you-
i cancelled them all, the day they got stolen.
kevlar?
yes - yes, i'm --
i know, okay? i know your name isn't wyatt bose. i know you killed that woman. and i know you're trying to frame me for it, so - so - why? what the hell is going on? and where is she?! if you hurt her i swear to god i'll.  jonathan falters, unsure where he's going with this and realizing he's now talking to himself.
it's me. i need to talk to you. he hits pound. breathes. at least he's done something. suddenly from o.s. a faint creak. jonathan spins, scans the room, grabs the nearest blunt object: his tennis trophy. quickly cut shots of jonathan searching his apartment, his trophy raised as a makeshift weapon.
wait! wait, right there! jonathan stands on the edge reeling, desperate to get,to her. he looks around, hears the distant: .nimble of afar. off train, and suddenly he does something we'd have never thought him capable of: he jumps onto the tracks! he lands hard, nearly breaking his ankle, but quickly scrambles to his feet, splashing in the sludge between rails, eyes darting along the track, anxious to avoid the third rail, ears attuned to the sound of that distant train as he races for
stop! she glances back, utterly stunned to find jonathan standing on the center divider, feet soaked in muck. neither speaks for a moment, just staring at each other across the solitary track. then:
i thought you were dead! she looks like she wants to say something, but doesn't. and all at once he's hit with a crushing realization:
you are in on this, aren't you?! she holds his eyes a moment longer, fighting back emotion - then she abruptly turns and starts back for the exit again.
how do you know him? damn it answer me! she halts, slowly looks back at him. of cam€ž through the club. he caught me trying to steal his wallet. jonathan looks confused; she's struggling to stay composed but looks like she could break down at any moment.
so everything between us - was nothing? she fights back tears.
go through with what?
then why didn't you?
wait, jonathan? i'm jonathan. jonathan messer. you're -? o.s. we hear the approaching roar of an incoming train.  ii s 7f did you go to the police?
i can't. he's framing me for murder. what?
he killed a woman from the club, someone i'd been with. "s" is shocked., instantly terrified. clearly she had no idea. i.  s$f jonathan, you have to leave! do you understand? you need to get the hell out of here, he's going to kill you! the roar of the incoming train is growing louder.  don't you understand? he's going to kill - - when the incoming train completely drowns him out.  and swipes "s" out of jonathan's view. jonathan struggles to peer through the train windows but its passengers prevent him from getting a look at her. just then the train doors open with the noise of passengers getting on and off. panicked, jonathan cranes his neck, trying to see her through the windows.
stop! he boards the train; using it as a bridge, he pushes through passengers, desperate for an open door to the other side.
hello? not a word from the other end. we barely make out breathing.
wyatt? is that you? jonathan takes a tentative step forward, as if fearful that the least movement will cost him this connection.
say something damn it! from the receiver we hear a well-exhaled breath. and then:
what do you want from me?
answer me!
why are you doing this to me?!
i'm going to find you, you hear me? i'm- click. dead air.
hello?.  hello?! jonathan slams the phone down, tension in his face joined by a new emotion, something closer to. fury.
i'm going to find you.
follow-up?
no. no luck.
are you free tonight?
do you know wyatt bose?
what about william bansky? does that name-- she darts.for the "door open" button, but he blocks her path.
please, i'm not trying to scare you, i just -- i'm looking for someone.and it's very important that i find him. she tries to push past him, again jonathan blocks her.
he does this too - or he did. someone had to give him the numbers. someone let him in. if i can-'find who it was that knew him, they might know where he's -- she suddenly kicks him in the shin with a spiked heel. jonathan grasps his leg - she presses the button and is out the opening doors before he's even looked up. sound advance: tense clacking of computer keys.
i need to ask you something, it's incredibly important.
you told him. about this. a beat, and she nods, crushing out her other cigarette.
wait - thank you. have you ever run into him again?
getz?
shit. jonathan exhales, about to log off - when a name among the h's jumps out at him: holloway. reed. jonathan stares at it tensely - then clicks on the name. "sort no contact information available." jonathan thinks a moment - then tries a search engine, types: "holloway reed" then decides to add the word "missing." an article appears. from the chicago tribune: "body of missing businessman finally discovered." a head-shot style photograph shows a man in his early 40s whom we recognize from black business suit's story. beneath his photo, his name: "reed holloway."
can i print this out?
i live here.
how did it start?
just - give me a minute.
i guess it is.
this is detective russo, nypd, badge number 274655. 1 just need some information from you guys. jonathan sits in suspense, awaiting a response. finally -
you've got a case, a missing person named william bansky. i'm wondering if you can tell me the date he was last seen?
that's it, thanks. jonathan quickly hangs up, equally encouraged and chilled by the connection he's made. tilt down to a post-it, on which he's scribbled: "bose = bansky = holloway." to this he adds: "= james getz"
actually, my card was stolen.
the thing is, i already used your automated system and. look, this passport's all i have left, it's the only thing proves who i am and now i'm down to like my last ten dollars here, so.  jonathan's cool is cracking. the teller wrinkles her brow.
give me a goddamn break.
oh no? in the last few days i've seen a woman i thought might be dead turn up alive and a woman i assumed was alive turn up dead, both at the hands of a guy about whom everything i know is apparently a lie. i've had my building set on fire, my neighbor nearly killed, and my apartment ransacked. so please forgive my language, but it's been one fuck of a week. the stunned teller stares back at him slack-jawed.
look, i know i'm just another face on this side of the glass, i get that. but i'm begging you, as one human being to another, please let me into your life just long enough to help me out here. please. the teller stares back at him a beat - and nods. she starts quickly typing into her monitor, finally looks up.
well, like i -- wait, what request?
where is she?
where is she?! a terrifying silence - jonathan erupts:
goddamn it tell me what you did to--
i can't - i have no idea how to even-
it won't work - they screen for stuff like this. it'll be discovered eventually.
this account overseas - it's in my name, isn't it? a moment of tense silence. jonathan just stares back hard a quiet beat; then:
why'd you pick me? wyatt raises a brow, vaguely amused the question.
the ad - in money magazine.
why should i believe you? everything you told me was lies.
i wondered if you were monitoring this.
not until i see her. the transfer's impossible without an access code. and there's no way i'm entering it until i'm sure that she's safe. so you tell me. how do we do that? wyatt still remains unnervingly silent. we tighten on jonathan, holding his breath, any plan he's concocting clearly hinging on this.
where is she?
bansky's dead, isn't he?
not until i see her. she's the only reason i'm here and not at the police.
give me the key then. wyatt considers this, then takes out an electronic key card and slides it across the table. of course there's nothing on the key card to indicate a room number.
not good enough. wyatt reaches for the key card; as he does we glimpse a handgun concealed by his suit.
you won't let her live. you killed all the others, you'll have to kill us too.
you like me.
don't you get it? it was her, not you! she's the one. she gave me life! you can steal my identity, but not what's here.
my wireless modem - i must have left it in the conference room. i can't get back online. wyatt glares at jonathan, seething.
i can go back there and-
they don't let you use your own computer. wyatt takes out a hundred dollar bill, gives it to jonathan.
i just checked in and it's been a hectic day. look at me! the employee looks uneasy - something about the ill-concealed tension in jonathan's eyes.
i really don't have time, okay? jonathan presses the bill into the employee's palm, peers up at the clock again: the big hand clicks over to 11:30.
907 - thanks.
fire, i know - i'll be out in a minute. the scared cleaning woman nods and hurries off as jonathan quickly slides the key in the slot. the light blinks green. he jerks the door handle and throws open the door to find -
what do you say we stick together from now on?
he's down there! i saw him -
up - we've got to go up! clutching her arm, jonathan and "s" turn back up, against the flow of traffic. stories above, less and less people are evacuating. angle on wyatt as he presses upward, his steely gaze even more rapacious. the crowd is thinning as jonathan and "s" race upward as well. insert jonathan's pov: a shaky, dizzying blur as they race higher and higher.  insert wyatt's pov: from below but gaining on them, jonathan and "s". appearing and disappearing with each twist and turn of the staircase.  close on jonathan and "s", desperately racing upwards.  close on wyatt bounding the stairs, footsteps echoing, the staircase now empty and quiet, save for the footfall of jonathan and "s" - no more than three floors above wyatt now.  wyatt slows his pace, leans into the railing, takes aim.  close on jonathan and "s" still hurrying up - when a shot rings out, a jolting echo clanging through the stairwell, the
come on! she grabs his hand, and they waste no time disappearing into the mass of bodies. they keep moving. shoulder to shoulder within the swell of partiers, they fit right in - instantly anonymous - though not as smartly attired. back to the stairwell door as wyatt enters the party, scanning the dense crowd, all senses alert. insert wyatt's pov: just a mass of successful, attractive, partying young men and women. there's no way to pick jonathan and "s" out. wyatt's smirk fades to an icy glare as he stalks the periphery. within the crowd "s" clutches jonathan's hand, their heads ducked low as they press forward.  close on wyatt, frustration gnashing at him as he quickens his pace, the idiotic enthusiasm of the crowd enraging him, sweat beading on his face -- -- when suddenly the music stops. wyatt frowns., eyes darting. close on jonathan and "s" glancing around in confusion -
yours, i believe.
can i ask you something personal? she nods.
what's your name? "s" considers the request, then smiles gently, leans in close and whispers the answer in his ear. jonathan gazes at her a moment - whatever her name is, it must be perfect.
so what now? she smiles up at him.
yes. i'm free. they gaze at each other. we leave jonathan and "s" to their privacy, pulling back as they continue talking, continuing away until we're
	138:
so tell me, you have been out with a lady friend, oui?
je suis desole, madame, mais no.
who's in there anyway?
what do you say to a break?
it's just sometimes i feel so - i don't know - removed. i mean, i work for one of the biggest accounting firms in the world, and.there's not so much as a desk there to prove it? they've decided all we need are cell phones and laptops. messages are voice-mailed, documents e-mailed, salary's deposited online. chet peterson, my senior manager? i swear he wouldn't recognize me if i was sitting in his chair. jonathan pauses, takes another drag, train of thought drifts:
i guess i just never counted-on the isolation. it's like sometimes i look through that glass, and i see life literally passing me by. jonathan stares out the glass wall in stoned silence.
develop akiller instinct and you'll beat the crap out of me. jonathan turns to commiserate with his partner - but she's already gone to join her friend. jonathan crashes out on the court. from his low angle he watches as wyatt goes over to the girls and says something that causes a burst of laughter. the girls finally wave goodbye. wyatt hops over the net.
me? sure, i guess - but i don't want to
me? never.
oh.  okay. the cab pulls up before the rhiga royal hotel.
me? no.
right then, the rules: one,.no names, no jobs - no nothing. two, latex is mandatory and non-negotiable.  three, no rough stuff - the only rule that's even remotely malleable provided there's mutual consent, although i say if that's your thing, take it elsewhere. and finally.  she halts a few feet from the registration desk.
in the subway?
ever since that night on the train, i've thought about how nice it would be to see you again. and now suddenly, here you are, taking off your clothes. €ž s of bingo! so what's the problem?
um, i think there's a little piece of.  €žsr. .onion in my hair? she laughs and flicks it.off. hmm. they get everywhere.
i think you have the wrong number.
are you free tonight? jonathan exhales in relief on hearing her voice.
duck on bike. "s" beams like it's the greatest name ever.
and for the record, i'd like nothing more than to make love right now. but i'm kind of glad we decided to wait.
and you don't know anything about her. where she works? where she lives?
young man, we've owned this apartment going on thirty years now.
wait!! that painting there, it's a gerhard richter, right?
oh - i'm not sure i'm allowed to-
well, i won't keep you. you have a good night. jonathan slowly hangs up, his panicked gaze returning to the hall closet as he paces toward it, throws open the door. in the far corner rests his racket bag. he grabs it, yanks open the zipper.  his face draining of all remaining color as he peers into his empty racket ba . his racket is gone.
i suppose i'd had too much to drink. and i was distracted.  i was thinking about what a great lay he was going to be.
so i just put the incident out of my mind. i all but forgot about it, until one night, maybe two months ago -
bansky, william, last seen.  may 17. jonathan's eyes return to the holloway article , dated "may 17."
told you to block that caller id. of course i had to scope out a whole lot of losers before i hit the jackpot. after all, there only so many jonathan messers out there.
if you screw with me, well - you saw what i did to that blonde? that's kindness compared to what i'll do to your little .girlfriend. you won't even recognize her when i'm through.
really? well - okay, bring him back. we follow the assistant out the door, read the name stencilled on the glass "chet peterson, senior manager."
next door down. the young man ducks out, and now peterson sees his assistant approaching, jonathan a few paces behind her, adjusting his glasses. peterson reloads his greeting:
you'll stay on to finish up at clute nichols, of course? track around peterson to see jonathan seated across from him, lifting his head to reply - and doing so revealing it's
are you free tonight? a sudden, jarring sound advance of music as we
i don't have all night, jonathan. jonathan reluctantly nods his assent. wyatt lets go of the key card. jonathan opens his bag.
they'll.  catch.  you.